


Dirty Little Secrets

by TheSeaSpider



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt & Comfort, Metaphors, Nico di Angelo Needs a Hug, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Post canon, Roses, cigarette, kind of, percy jackson smokes, percy just wants a cigarette, smoke, thorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaSpider/pseuds/TheSeaSpider
Summary: Percy was 8 when he smoked for the first time. It was an escape, he would tell himself. He thought he would know how to stop.He stopped. For a while, at least. The last time he smoked was when he was 13.But...He needed an escape again. Old habits die hard, ey?
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Piper McLean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Dirty Little Secrets

The vase shone in the dim lighting of the moon, a simple red rose sitting in the glass leaning toward the window, as if yearning to be with the moon. The vase set gently on a small wooden nightstand- all that was on it was a digital clock and the vase. The vase with the rose.

The numbers on the clock glowed a light red color. Why was everything red? The glowing numbers read 2:00 am. Was it really that early? That's what the numbers read. But numbers can be deceiving. 

The bedside table was untouched. No one used it. All that lay in it's drawer was a small pack. A pack that hadn't been used in years. Next to it, a lighter. The drawer had cobwebs. It hadn't been touched in 4 years. It was somewhat forgotten about. And, on top of the table, was a vase. A vase with a red rose. The rose had thorns. All good roses do. Cut the thorn off, but the scars will stay. They always do. A rose without thorns is like a man without imperfections. All men have imperfections. Everyone has imperfections.

Especially him. He was like the rose, in a way. Like the rose, he was stained red. Red in his eyes. Red in his thoughts. Blood was red. The clock was red. The rose was red. Fire was red. He liked fire. Especially what it brought.

He sat up on his bed. He looked at the red clock. 2:01 am. He was a blue boy in a red world. He never fit in. He never would. Blue never fit in with red. He knew that. He looked at the nightstand. It shone a reddish tint in the lighting. He always liked red. Fire was red. Fire brought smoke. He hadn't smoked in years. He needed fire.

2:02 am. He looked at the table once more. He reached toward it, his hand finding the drawer in the moonlight. He opened it, reaching his hand into the cobwebs.

2:03 am. He pulled out the pack and lighter. He set the pack next to him, staring at the lighter. He flicked it once. Nothing. Twice. A spark. Three times. A tiny flame leapt up. He smiled.

2:04 am. He stood up, lighter and pack in hand, and stepped outside into the cold, crisp autumn air. The moonlight caught him in it's grasp, dragging him into the light of its beauty. It was full tonight.

He took out a cigarette. His escape. He never wanted this. But sometimes life doesn't give you what you want, not because you don't deserve it, but because you deserve so much more. He didn't know that, though. All he knew was that he would never get enough. He knew he deserved something greater, and he yearned to find it.

He softly placed the cigarette in his mouth, looking around to make sure no one was out. One flick. Two flicks. It sparked, a tiny flame appearing. He lit the cigarette.

A few months ago, you would've looked up to him and seen a hero, a person to look up to. Now, he seemed weak, sitting on the porch of his cabin at 2am, a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like your everyday delinquent. But, he was nothing of the such. Don't forget- looks can be deceiving.

He tapped his foot on the ground, a melody he knew all-too-well forming in a rhythmic pattern on the cold, leaf-covered ground. He took the tube out of his mouth, blowing a cloud of smoke out from his lungs. He tapped the butt on the stairs, watching the ashes gently fall to the ground. 

Smoke still hung in the air around him, the misty gas floating and harboring itself into his mind. His two fingers loosely held the cigarette, but it didn't fall. It couldn't. To him, the cigarette was a part of him. A part that, no matter how many times he cuts off, always grows right back.

The first time he cut it off was when he was 9. He'd gone a few months without smoking, but on his 10th birthday, when his step-father gave him an extra beating, he tried using his escape. It grew right back, and he was too naive to cut it off again.

The second was when he was 12. At Yancy, he'd finally made a friend. So, for the sake of that friend, he cut it off. He didn't feel as useless. But, then he got to camp. No one liked him, which wasn't a surprise, but he resorted to his escape when he was too frightful.

The third time was after his step-father died. He took a few packs, just for the sake of the possibility he might start again. He knew he was free from the man. He had no more use for them. He took a pack and buried it in the park under a tree he was fond of as a child. Another, he put in a box under his bed. And, for the last one, in a drawer on a nightstand he never found a use for. A nightstand with a vase. A vase with a rose.

He was like a rose. Everyone was. The thorns were imperfections, and pedals were what were great about them. Kindness, loyalty. Things like that. He didn't think he had many pedals. He knew he had thorns, though. More than others, too. At least, that's what he thought.

Again, he took the cigarette out of his mouth. Blow, tap, watch gently as the ashes fall and smoke rises. He put his escape back into his mouth.

He looked up at the stars. They were clear tonight. He looked up at his favorite constellation, the Huntress. She would probably be disappointed if she saw him here, by himself, smoking his worries away. But, no matter how disappointed she would be, he hoped she would understand. Well, at least if she were still here.

He closed his eyes. For a moment, he was no longer a war-stained man, no, he was a boy. A boy who didn't worry about how he might die the next day. No, a boy who worried about smaller things, like not finishing his homework or passing a test. But, as fast as the moment came, it was gone. Again, he was the war-stained man that would never truly find peace. He didn't mind being that man, though. He was used to it.

Sometimes, all he wanted to do was fade away. Let himself float away like a billow of smoke or a pile of ashes. But, he had people who needed him. And he couldn't just leave them. He knew that, of course, but he desired it with the deepest parts of his soul. Just imagine it: fading away into the breeze, letting your worries fade away. Like a pedal in the wind. A pedal from a rose. A rose on a nightstand.

It will always go back to the rose. Roses, like all things, die. Fade away. And he knew he would fade away, one day, too. But not his memory. No, that would not fade. Someone would always remember him. And he would remember the rose. That simple, red rose he kept thinking back at.

Again, he took his escape out of his mouth. Blow, tap, watch gently as the ashes fall and smoke rises. He put the cigarette back into his mouth.

"Percy?" a familiar voice asked, breaking Percy out of his thoughts. In front of him stood a sad-looking boy dressed in all black.

"That's my name," Percy said calmly, looking at the boy in front of him seemingly without a care in the world. "Of what do I owe the pleasure?"

The boy stared at him for a moment before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm smoking. Would you care to join me?" Percy asked, cig locked between his two fingers, a small smile on his face.

The boy didn't answer. Percy took that as a no, his lips pressing into a thin line. He ignored the boy's worried gaze, tapping the cigarette on the side of the porch again. He placed the cigarette back into his mouth.

"How long?" The boy asked.

"Hm?" Percy didn't quite understand what his friend meant.

"How long have you smoked?"

Ah, there it was. "I started when I was 8 but stopped when I was 13," he answered honestly. "This is the first time since then."

The boy stared at him. He had a questioning look on his face, and seemed to be asking _why?_ Percy didn't want to answer, so he looked at the stars again. "How many constellations do you know?"

The boy looked at the stars, studying them as if trying to figure out a puzzle. He pointed to a small group of stars. "That one's the Little Dipper, right?"

Percy nodded his head, pointing to a set of stars. "See that one there? That's Perseus, and the one next to it is Andromeda."

The boy looked at Percy in surprise. He guessed the boy hadn't known he actually knew something. Percy felt the need to snort, but resisted the urge. Instead, Percy continued. "You know that one? No? It's the Huntress. Zoe Nightshade."

The boy sucked in a breath. Of course he knew her. She wasn't the nicest person he'd ever met, but he could say she had been little mean. And biased. "I remember the story."

"Of course you do, Nico. I've told you it more times than I can remember." Percy smiled down on his younger cousin, and to his surprise, Nico gave a small smile back.

Percy breathed in the smoke, a warm feeling filling his throat. He took the cigarette out, blowing gently, watching the smoke gently float away in the wind. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"What?" Nico was confused.

"The way simple things, like smoke, can just float away aimlessly without having to worry about anything," Percy said, his tone sad.

Nico nodded his head in understanding. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the side of the cabin. Shadows seemed to shift around him, leaning into him. Like the rose in the moonlight. The beautiful, red rose that sat in the vase on the nightstand. His nightstand.

Percy looked back up at the stars, naming the constellations in his mind. _Triangulum, Cassiopeia. . . ._

"Be happy I found you," Nico said, breaking Percy out of his thoughts.

"Why?" Percy asked half-heartedly.

"If it had been anyone else . . ." Percy knew what Nico was trying to say. They would have chided him for doing this, and they would've tried to make him go bereft of his escape.

"Yeah," Percy agreed. "I'm glad it's you who found me. We don't talk much anymore."

Nico was about to nod his head in agreement, but a rustle from a group of bushes near the cabin made the two boys freeze. They slowly inclined their heads towards each other, having a silent conversation.

 _Do you think someone's spying on us?_ Percy seemed to ask.

 _Maybe_ , Nico nodded. _Or it's a. . . ._

Percy didn't like that theory. He shook his head, and the cousins both slowly turned their heads to the bushes. Percy's hand gripped his pen while Nico held onto the hilt of his sword.

A small noise, likely a whisper, came from the bush. A small movement coursed through the bush, accompanied by a small flash of blonde.

"You can come out now." Percy set the cigarette back into his mouth, patiently watching the bush.

And, out from the bush popped two girls. One blonde and the other brunette. _Of course,_ Percy thought. _Why not bring out the rest of the 7 while you're at it?_

"Annabeth, Piper," Percy acknowledged, making the two girls shift uncomfortably. "Why are you spying on us?"

"Well, I heard talking and-" Piper started, but she was cut off by her blonde companion.

"And she came to get me. It was my idea to come check it out." Annabeth didn't look ashamed. No, she looked worried. Why, Percy could not fathom.

Percy removed the cigarette from his mouth. "Of course it was."

All the while, Nico stayed silent, watching from a 'safe' distance. He probably was amused by this confrontation, and thinking that, Percy felt the need to punch him in the face. Couldn't he help a bro out?

Annabeth glared at her boyfriend, asking, "Now, do you mind telling me why you are _smoking_?"

Ah, there it was. The one question Percy didn't want to answer. Still, he responded nonetheless. "It calms me down."

Annabeth scowled, still glaring at Percy, and Percy looked over to his cousin for help. He expected Nico to be sitting there, smirking, but he wasn't. Nico wasn't even there. Percy made a mental note to get back at him later.

He awkwardly smiled at the two girls, trying to earn some sympathy. Surely they had smoked before! Piper stood there awkwardly, watching the confrontation. She had a look on her face that screamed, _I'm too tired for this shit!_

"Don't tell me you haven't smoked before?" Percy asked, a bit shocked.

"No! I'm not _stupid_ enough to do it, you dumb kelp head!" Annabeth growled.

"I almost did once, but decided against it," Piper added in, yawning.

"How long has this been going on?" Annabeth glared at her boyfriend again, seemingly ignoring her tired friend.

"Well, I started when I was 8-"

" _8?!_ Why _-"_ Annabeth shrieked.

"Let him speak!" Piper's charmspeak floated through the air, making Annabeth shut up. Percy nodded a thanks.

"As I was saying, I started when I was 8. I tried to stop a few times, but it was never for long. I never smoked much either. Maybe once every 2 or 3 days? Only when I was having a _really_ shitty day, which was, like, every day. I stopped when I was 13 and haven't smoked since then. I just needed an escape, you know? I'm sure you of all people can relate," Percy said. He didn't specifically direct the last comment towards either of them. It was meant for them both, and he was sure they knew it.

His scars felt like they were glowing. He never fully cut off that one thorn. He left a stump. A stump he couldn't seem to get rid of. And it scarred him. It scarred his stem. And, by the gods, he would never be proud of it. He couldn't be.

Both girls stared at the boy in front of him, looking deep in thought. Percy could only guess what they were thinking. Maybe, _why so young?_ or _What could have been that bad as to make him smoke?_

Percy smirked. The incredulous looks on their faces made him want to laugh and roll his eyes, but it was a bad time.

"Why are you smiling?" Annabeth chided.

"Uh, the confused look on your face is adorable?" It was true- she looked cute when she was trying figure something out.

Annabeth let out a sigh of defeat, grabbing the cigarette from her lovers hands.

"Hey!" Percy shrieked, trying to grab the cigarette. Annabeth rolled her eyes, dropping the almost-done cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it. Percy scowled while she smiled innocently.

Percy let out a sigh of defeat. A small part of him was glad she got rid of it. Annabeth saw him look defeated and took this as her chance to sit next to him, Piper following suit.

"So," Piper said.

"So," echoed Percy. 

"What now?" Annabeth asked, conflicted by the awkward silence.

"I don't know 'bout you guys, but I'm tired," Piper mumbled, yawning.

"Me too," Percy agreed. "Time to hit the hay?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Seaweed Brain."

Percy looked over to tell Piper goodnight, but she had already left. He turned back tohis soulmate. "Night, love."

"Did you just call me love? Are you drunk, too?" Percy could practically hear the sarcasm dripping off her last question.

Percy turned towards her, giving her one long, passionate kiss before looking into her tired, stormy grey eyes. "Love you."

Annabeth looked at him, a warm feeling rising in her stomach, echoing, "Love you."

And, with that last comment, she walked off into the night. Percy watched her walk off, a small smile on his face. He took one last look at the moon, saving the beautiful image in his mind. He sighed, looking at the camp dimly lit by moonlight, before standing up and walking to his cabin.

 _Roses are red_ , he thought. _And I am blue._

 _I might not fit in,_ Percy smiled. _But I still love you._

He sat in bed, staring at the red rose in the vase on the nightstand. Percy liked roses. He decided he would get some for Annabeth.

He looked at the clock. 2:49 am.

2am thoughts.

He had weird things on his mind most of the time. But, out of any time his thoughts were the strangest, that'd have to go to 2am.

And he loved his 2am thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Just testing to see how AO3 works.


End file.
